


Not Fucking Adorable

by ghettoassenglishman



Series: Take my hand--Take My Whole life too [73]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bacon, Fluff, M/M, Mickey is so cute and small, Morning Kisses, Teasing, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 09:20:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4700666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anon Prompt : when mickey kisses ian he has to get up on his tiptoes because hes smaller</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Fucking Adorable

**Author's Note:**

> This was adorable to write! credit to bacon;) 
> 
> Tell me what you think, I love to see all your comments:)

Ian stood alone in the kitchen, hunched over the counter as he flipped the frying bacon over in the spitting pan. Ian sighed happily as the delicious aroma that surrounded him; after morning runs, there was nothing more exciting than a bacon sandwich. Scraping at the rashes with the spatula, Ian hummed a random tune as he bobbed on his toes, his voice attempting to be quiet within the silent atmosphere of shared apartment. Flipping them over once more, making sure they were cooked and not sticking to the bottom of the pan, Ian smiled as the meat looked decently cooked; the sides curling up a little, the meat darkening into a deep shade of red.

Thinking ahead, Ian placed two plates next to the pan, with bread both buttered and cut in half; the last time Ian didn't make Mickey a bacon sandwich, Mickey swore to celibacy and they didn't have sex for atleast two days. (No way did Ian want that happening again.) Letting the bacon sizzle for a couple of seconds, Ian turned against his toes to reach the tomato ketchup, which laid on the side by the toaster. As he placed it down, he looked up briefly and jolted at the unexpected sight of Mickey shuffling and yawning his way into the kitchen; only wearing a pair of Ian's sweats and one, single sock. His hair was tousled, a couple of strands falling against his forehead; his eyes were half-closed, still adjusting to the bright light of the living area and a little puffy from sleep. When Mickey caught him staring, he gave a small smile before walking over and wrapping his arms around Ian's waist.

Ian smiles, leaning back into the embrace. He scrapes the bacon from the bottom of the pan, “Good morning.”

Mickey groans into his back, arms tightening, “There's nothing fucking good about the morning.”

Reluctantly, Ian peels Mickey's hands from his waist; he pinches the bacon and chucks it onto the two pieces of bread that laid against the side. Applying a _huge_ amount of ketchup, Ian closes the messy sandwich and throws it onto a plate. Turning in Mickey's weak and loose hold, he grins, shoving the plate into his chest.“Yes, there is. Call it my speciality.”

Mickey's face immediately lights up, his smile curling against his lips despite how hard he tried to hide it. He reaches the bacon sandwich and takes a bite, before replying with his mouth full. “Thanks, man.” He places the plate against the side, swallowing the bite, before leaning up towards Ian. He shuffles closer to Ian's body; rising on his tiptoes (because Ian was a fucking giant) he presses his lips gently against Ian's, his hand slipping around the younger man's waist, the other cradling Ian's chin.

Ian closed his eyes, sighing and smiling into the warm kiss; that's before he hit realisation. _Mickey was on his tiptoes._ His smile turns instantly into a snorting laughter, louder than expected. Ian had never noticed, not really, how much Mickey had to reach up just to get a kiss; it was both adorable and hilarious. Mickey was scowling; as if he couldn't work out whether or not to be offended by Ian's laughter or to kick his ass right there in their kitchen. Ian didn't want him to decide either way; he turns back to the pan, clearing his throat as he tried to dim the bubbling giggles waiting to burst.

As expected, Mickey punches him in the arm; his eyes narrowed like a hawk. “What the fuck you laughing at, Gallagher?”

Again, Ian tried to decrease the laughter he felt brewing, but it didn't subside so easily. “Ah, nothing, Mick. It's nothing.”

Mickey grunts, both hurt and aggressive. Ian turns at the sound, grinning slightly. Mickey bites back, “Bullshit.” Ian can already tell that Mickey is somewhat pissed off; it wasn't that hard to see that he was also a little offended and conscious now. Ian was struggling not to feel guilty at this point. Mickey shakes his head, leaning against the counter, “Is there something I fucking missed?”

Ian goes to bite into his sandwich, that he had made in the midst of laughing at Mickey and his tiptoe kisses, and placing one finger up before Mickey's face, he turns back around to the counter. “ _I've_ missed something.”

Rolling his eyes, Mickey scoffs, “Yeah? What?”

Like a bolt of lightning, Ian turns with a bottle of sauce in his hand. “Ketchup!”

Mickey's face drops completely, watching as Ian squirted the red sauce over his bacon sandwich before closing the pieces of bread together. He shakes himself, before chuckling mockingly, clicking his tongue. He grabs the bottle and launching it towards the couch, where it doesn't land too loudly.“You better tell me what the hell you were laughing at, or that sandwich is getting shoved down your fucking throat.”

Ian hums, taking a bite. “Hm, that's what I hope for.”

“I swear to fuck -” Mickey clenches his fists, trying to control himself before he pounces on Ian; most likely he would kiss that stupid grin off his face, but that seems more of a treat than a punishment.

Ian surrenders, holding his stomach as he let out the last of his giggles. “Fine. Fine!” He yells, putting his hands up in the air before Mickey literally tackled him to the floor or something along those lines. Ian puts his plate on the counter, making a loud clattering sound, before turning back to Mickey with a smirk plastered on his face. “Mick, c'mere.”

Mickey didn't budge; instead, he turned his face away, crossing his arms, as he pretended to be offended and angry.

“Mick,” Ian demanded in a sigh, arms open wide and waiting. He repeats, pleadingly, “C'mere.”

“Fuck off.” Mickey refuses, reaching for his sandwich and taking an awfully big bite.

Whilst Mickey stood still, leaning against the counter, Ian closed the gap between them, his hands curling around Mickey's waist. Pulling him closer, Ian shyly smiled, ducking his head a little to catch Mickey's moving eyes; Mickey was trying his hardest not to give in. Ian felt the rough, used, material of Mickey's – well, his – sweats against his palms as they moved towards the cushion of Mickey's perky ass. Bending down a little – which was as much as embarrassing as Mickey having to get up on his tiptoes – he gently pecks Mickey's lips.

Mickey rolls his eyes, his hand – in habit – playing at the back of Ian's neck. “Jesus Christ.” Mickey rose up on his tiptoes, returning the kiss, his tongue slipping through the seam of Ian's lips. Again, Mickey could feel Ian beginning to laugh against him, his kiss turning more into a clumsy smile that couldn't control itself; Jesus, Ian was a fucking child. Ian pulled away, giggling into the back of his hand, Mickey was giving nothing but _bloody murder_ eyes that Ian almost simmered down at.

Pushing at Ian's chest a little, Mickey asks, his voice tight and dark. “Seriously, what the fuck?!”

Ian's giggles dim after a while, mostly because Mickey was staring daggers into his head, and in a huff, he explains himself. “I just, I didn't realise you had to go up so far on your tiptoes _just_ to kiss me, that's all.” Mickey looks mortified. Ian giggles, the sound growing louder and louder, he walks over to Mickey and rests his hands on both of his shoulders. “It's pretty adorable, actually.”

Mickey looks down at his feet, cursing to himself before flipping Ian off with both of his hands. “Fuck you, it ain't adorable.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” Ian hums sweetly, moving closer to Mickey. He laughed a little before pulling Mickey into his arms, attempting to plant kisses at the side of his face. Mickey continued to turn his face away, trying to retreat from the kisses and dodge them completely, but the twitching of his mouth turned into a inadvertent smile and Ian could instantly tell that Mickey wasn't as angry nor offended as he acted to be.

After a couple of seconds struggling and trying to fight against Ian's kisses, Mickey relents and turns his mouth towards Ian's, roughly attacking them as his hand slid to Ian's backside. Ian deepened the kiss, licking his tongue against Mickey's; opening him up and letting himself in. Mickey let out a satisfied moan, leaning his body further into Ian's, grinding himself against him. Ian wrapped his arms fully around Mickey's back, holding him tightly and close, a smile lifting at the corners of his mouth as Mickey's body fit so perfectly against his.

Gently kissing at the corner of Ian's lips, Mickey pulls away with a flustered yet shy smile on his face. He looks as if he's got something to say, or waiting for Ian to talk, but they end up just staring at eachother, bodies close, for what felt like a good two minutes. Mickey chuckles to himself, before licking off some ketchup off his finger. “You stink.” He scowls towards the sweaty smell against Ian's running shirt.

Ian swats Mickey's chest, giggling with Mickey. “Fuck you. You still had food in your mouth. “ He wipes off some crums that had transferred from Mickey's mouth to the corner of his through the passionate but rough kiss. “Gross.”

Mickey shoves him playfully, before picking up his – now cold – bacon sandwich, taking a bite. “It's my speciality.”

Ian snorts, rolling his eyes as Mickey recalled his words. “Being tall is definitely not yours, though.”

Flipping him off, as he walked over to the couch, Mickey yells. “Fuck you, you giant idiot!”


End file.
